(bad) words to live by
by mantisbelle
Summary: Hazel realized quickly that he was surrounded by monsters on all sides. He needed to adapt his way of thinking if he was meant to survive the Evernight.


Hazel learned quickly that he was surrounded by monsters on all sides.

Salem, because she was a monster in the most literal sense. She had given up the scraps of her humanity long ago, and had little interest in the rest of theirs. In Hazel's humanity.

Watts, because his sole drive was in his own ambitions. It took little time at all for Hazel to realize that when it came to his own ambitions, Watts wouldn't hesitate to trample others in the process. The things that Watts wanted, Watts got. That was all there was to it.

Tyrian oozed his monstrosity from every pore. It was the wicked curve of his tail, the sharpness of his smile, the way that he approached _everything_ as though it was something that could be destroyed. People, feelings, objects. Tyrian had no hesitation in dismantling all of it. In fact, he was _happy_ to do so.

Cinder was driven as well. Hazel had moments where he hoped for her humanity. But given what her mission entailed, Hazel understood that it was entirely likely that she was long gone. A child turned into a monster because that was what Salem's mission demanded of her.

If Hazel was going to survive in this den of monsters, he needed to do some things to keep his own head about him.

Salem demanded complete loyalty to her. She didn't ask him to do wretched things, for the most part. But he understood just as well as everyone else in her clutches did that when the time came where she asked to he served, there was no choice but to do so.

And so Hazel met his teammates one by one, as she demanded so much of him.

At the time, there had only been two for him to meet.

He met Watts on his second day after joining with Salem officially.

The purpose for the meeting was as much about Watts creating a detailed medical history on him so that Hazel would be able to be treated should the need ever arise. Hazel doubted that he'd ever need it, not when he couldn't feel pain if he decided as much, not when he had an aura that was quick to bounce back to full.

Watts asked him _everything._ From his height and weight to how Hazel had gotten the scarring that covered his arms. When Hazel hadn't answered, Watts had only _tsk_ed and noted them as self-inflicted.

It was true, but Hazel wanted to protest that it may not have been entirely accurate.

He didn't _hurt_ himself.

It didn't count as hurting if he couldn't feel it, after all.

Watts' poking and prodding was as much physical as it was emotional. The doctor tried to worm every detail of Hazel's life out of him, and Hazel found himself glad that he was able to get away with giving surprisingly little. Watts hadn't seemed to appreciate it.

Hazel realized later that Watts was trying to suss out whether he was a _suitable teammate_ as much as he was trying to be a doctor.

Watts had come to him again, hours later.

"Hazel." The thin man said in a needling tone.

Hazel eyed him. "What?"

Watts seated himself across from Hazel, a scroll in his hand which displayed Hazel's personal files from Vale. _How_ Watts would have gotten such information was beyond him. The doctor grinned though, almost as soon as he saw that Hazel was upset.

"You and I have much to discuss." Watts said easily. "Seeing as I am the leader of this team in function."

"Team?"

Watts nodded. "You'll meet Tyrian soon. When Her Grace decides it's a good idea." There was a long pause, where Watts _grinned_ at him like he knew fully well that his taunt was somewhat upsetting to Hazel. "Tyrian can be _excitable._" Watts offered as the only explanation. "You wouldn't want to get off on the wrong food."

Hazel stared down at Watts' scroll. "Why do you have that?"

Watts glanced down. "Simply doing a background check on my teammate." He said. "And there is so much that's interesting about you, Hazel."

Hazel swallowed.

"Vale, no family. Such a tragedy." Watts scrolled past what Hazel had to assume was a police file of some sort. "Though I can't find what could _possibly_ drive you to Salem." There was a long pause. "After all, you appear to be absolutely nobody."

Hazel's expression sank into a harsh glower.

"My sister died at one of the academies." Hazel clarified.

"Revenge?" Watts snickered. "I suppose you may be more at home here than I'd realized. Although your case is small potatoes compared to mine."

Hazel glared across at Watts. "And what are you seeking revenge for?"

"Revenge." Watts huffed. "Such an_ ugly_ word. I'm simply seeking recognition from a kingdom that's built itself upon my back. Not looking for an eye for an eye. Just control over my own creations."

That wasn't correct. Hazel was pretty sure that he was smart enough to know just when he was being lied to about certain things. What Watts was discussing was more akin to worship, not revenge.

Hazel didn't think that Watts was correct about what he wanted himself though either. He wanted for his sister to see justice, to know that Gretchen's death would be able to be used to at least prevent the same form happening to some other child from some other family.

Revenge was a nasty word.

Watts rolled his eyes though. "You'll find that she'll help you." He said. "But don't think that you'll come out of any of this with your hands clean. What you're looking for won't allow it. I'd strongly suggest learning to let your personal ideas go, at least for now. We're all here for one cause. Don't forget it."

It was then, that Hazel created his first mantra of many.

_Kill my feelings._

Hazel met Tyrian three days later, only because he stepped into one of the great halls at the exact wrong time.

What he'd heard about the man and what he'd imagined that he'd be like was nothing like the real thing. The picture that Hazel had in his mind was of someone that was a killer, driven _only_ by killing. Someone who would wear his bloodlust on his sleeve and would never do a thing to deny it.

That was not what he found.

Instead, what he found was a man who had made himself comfortable in a large windowsill, without even a pillow there with him to make him comfortable there. He was curled there, all lithe muscle. He perked up the second that Hazel entered the room, his bare hands pressed against the frame around him.

He didn't look at Hazel directly, not until he had shifted slowly and seemingly followed Hazel based o the sound of him being in the room.

And then, without any reason or warning, he began to _giggle._

"Oh—" He said, turning to finally face Hazel.

The first thing that Hazel noticed was that he had bright gold eyes that reminded him of coins. Unevenly cut bangs hanged down into his face, and then what had been tied back fell over his shoulder in a tight braid.

The thin man stood up tall, and for the first time Hazel saw that he had a long tail that trailed behind him.

"You must be our newest guest." The man said, grinning wide. His tail mimicked his motions, almost like a second head. "The good doctor was sure to tell me all about you."

Hazel looked back up at him, unsure what to make of the _theatrics_ that he'd been greeted with. "And who are you?"

"Me?" The thin man replied. "Why, I am just Tyrian. And you must be Hazel."

Hazel frowned and growled back. "Yes."

"Hm, well." The scorpion faunus took a nonchalant step forward towards the edge of the windowsill before he dropped down to the floor without any care whatsoever. He landed on the balls of his feet, hands and tail stretched out to ensure that he didn't lose his balance. "I suppose I should say that it's a pleasure to meet you."

Tyrian grinned wide and straightened himself out though, striding towards Hazel confidently in a way that far too closely resembled him circling his prey. "But I'm afraid that I can't do that." Hazel moved his body slowly to track Tyrian's movements. He knew enough to know that leaving his back turned was all but certain to be a death sentence, one way or another.

Hazel didn't consider himself stupid enough to tempt fate.

"Why not?" Hazel asked, pausing only when Tyrian did.

The man's lowered in height from where it was, for just a second as Tyrian thought over just wanted to say as well as how he wanted to say it. But then he seemed to collect himself and faced Hazel directly. "He said that you wouldn't be of much use." Tyrian cooed. "That you were too _sensitive."_

"He… what?"

"Hm, yes, yes." Tyrian grinned. "Far too sensitive. How could I _ever_ trust someone in the field who can't hold their own? I mean—" Tyrian began to cackle. "I am _more_ than capable of compensating for two, but I shouldn't have to."

All at once his eyes hardened though, any levity draining out of Tyrian's entire form all at once. His coin-gold eyes flickered to a new shade of bright purple. "Besides, our Goddess needs a proper servant." He all but _hissed_ the words at Hazel. "And based on what the good doctor has said, I can't be sure that you would qualify."

Hazel grit his teeth and balled his hands into fists at his sides.

This man was a _monster._ He was the most monstrous person to walk all of Remnant, and Hazel was making the mistake of _letting him into his head._

It hit him harder and faster than Hazel had been prepared for. One moment he'd been there, being circled like he was going to be Tyrian's next meal and then he found himself on his back, the thin man braced above him with a wickedly curved stinger positioned just above Hazel's face, his eyes.

And Tyrian looked down at him with glowing violet eyes. His hands pressed to Hazel's skin, glowing with the same bright purple, and Hazel's semblance _broke_ all around him all at once. It was quicker than it had ever broken before, so fast that Hazel could barely do anything to stop it.

It would be back in no time, Hazel knew.

But it had never broken so badly.

In a desperate scramble for _something_ that resembled control, Hazel focused on his semblance and felt the world around him begin to fade away from him, ever so slowly. When Tyrian's stinger scraped against his cheek, Hazel felt none of it.

A strange expression smoothed over Tyrian's expression as the stinger dug in, ever so slightly.

When Hazel's aura came back in a wave, Tyrian backed off, somewhere between interested and bored.

In fact, _bored_ seemed exactly correct. The faunus put some space between himself and Hazel once more, without so much as a care as to what had just happened and what he'd done. Hazel pushed himself upright and kept his eyes on Tyrian. "What was that for?"

"Oh," Tyrian began, looking up at the ceiling instead. "Simply getting a taste of what you are." He said wistfully. "Since we're going to be working _so closely_ together."

The man's expression split into a manic smile. _"_Have you ever killed before, dearest Hazel?" He asked, and the began to cackle.

Hazel's blood ran cold.

If he was meant to survive there, he was going to have to be as monstrous as Tyrian was. He couldn't brush off killing if that was what Salem intended for him to do.

A new mantra formed in his mind.

_Kill my soul._

Hazel met his final teammate years later.

As soon as he saw Cinder Fall, Hazel knew that there was no looking back, that he'd embroiled himself with something just as bad as what he had wanted to go ahead and fight in the first place.

She was a _child._ The same age, maybe a few years older than Gretchen had been when she'd—

When.

She was too young to be there, the intent behind her being selected at such a young age all too obvious in Hazel's mind. It was too specific and calculated, too clear that Salem had suckered this child in with the same honeyed words that had led Gretchen to her death, just said from a different mouth.

Hazel's first instinct was that he had to _help her._

Watts had called it a foolish endeavor. He saw the girl as untouchable due to her purpose there.

Tyrian hadn't cared at all. All that mattered to _him_ was that Salem's happiness was assured.

It mattered to Hazel though. It _all_ mattered to Hazel.

Hazel's first chance to be with the girl alone was in a training session, because Her Grace had decided that there were other things that had needed to be done. Tyrian was being sent off on a mission because of it, and Watts was already hard at work on some sort of secret project that nobody knew anything about.

"How old are you?" Hazel asked as he stood, his back turned to the girl. He laid his coat down on the windowsill so that it would be left unharmed. Cinder stood behind him, her weapons already drawn and prepared for the spar that was to come.

"Fifteen." Cinder answered him.

Hazel _froze,_ faltering in a way that he hadn't in a long time.

Gretchen had only been a year older when she'd been—

"Fifteen."Hazel repeated the word, just to be certain that he heard it correctly. "How did she find you?"

The girl shook her head, without an answer. Hazel turned and looked down at her. She was thin, and she looked almost as though she'd been worked to the bone before Salem had decided to take her.

She didn't belong there. That was all that there was to it, she was a child that didn't belong being used as an instrument of war.

But the girl stepped into a stance, like she was preparing for Hazel to go at her. "She just did." Cinder replied to him. "And she's going to give me everything."

Hazel nodded. "She said that to the rest of us too." He said, and then he just beckoned Cinder forward, deciding then to focus and activate his semblance. She split her bow into a pair of swords and rushed at him.

He only raised his arms up in front of him to deflect the blades.

The girl was fast, but she had the potential to be faster. Not as fast as Tyrian, but fast.

It only took a push, and then she was off on the other side of the room again. Cinder stood up tall. "Why do you care so much?" She questioned, and for a moment Hazel realized that she must have felt the way that he had the first time that Watts had come to meet him.

Hazel shook his head. "Making sure that you're okay." He finally said because no other good answer came to mind that he could give to her. "You're too young for this."

"So she can have me made _stronger._" Cinder bit back at him, rushing in at him once more. Hazel shifted his weight so that he could block the strikes again, his aura bouncing back faster than it strictly _needed_ to. "She said that she needs me."

"That may be so." Hazel grabbed hold of one of the swords and pulled it straight from Cinder's grasp. Her eyes went wide and she leaped back away from him, taking her remaining sword with him. "But you're too young."

She grit her teeth, and then she raised a hand in front of her and a torrent of flame shot from it.

So she was strong then.

Gretchen had been strong too.

Hazel took the hits, his semblance and aura working together so that in the end he only came off as singed.

She stared at him, anger in her amber eyes. "You aren't in control here!" She shouted back at him. "She is. And soon _I _ will be."

"You believe that?"

"If I don't what else do I even _have?_" Cinder sent another blast of flame at him, which Hazel tried to side-step. "Are you going to fight me or not?"

"No." Hazel grit out. "I'm not."

She grit her teeth, anger flaring in her entire body. "_Then why are you here?"_

Loathe as he was to admit it, the girl had a point. If he was so opposed to Salem's goals in this one regard, then what _was_ he doing there? He wasn't like Tyrian, who wanted to watch the world burn around him. He wasn't like Watts, who was there purely for his own goal.

He was there for justice against Ozpin. Justice for Gretchen.

For preventing children form being used in a useless war against forces that could never be stopped.

And yet there she was, a child about to be used the same way as Gretchen had, ready to be sent off to her death by an uncaring master.

Training her was pointless.

Serving Salem was pointless.

Hazel needed to stop caring so much. Caring was what had put him there in the first place, had driven him to Salem's arms.

A new mantra formed in his mind, one that he needed to learn and follow more desperately than any other.

_Kill everything I am._

Because if he couldn't, he was certain it would only lead to his own death.


End file.
